Page 59 of Commitment Issues
Chapter Twenty-Four
Elliot
I stick my head into the bedroom, through the open verandah doors, but the room’s empty. My gaze falls to the bed, and I swallow hard.
It’s dishevelled. No, it’s more than that, it’s wrecked. My skin heats with the memory.
Freddie had been wild, beautiful as he’d come undone, every groan and gasp and moan making me feel more alive, more wanted, than I’ve felt in so, so long.
We’ve crossed a line. Sex had never been part of the deal. From the start, I’ve been at pains to make it clear it never was, that there was no expectation. Yet, wasn’t what happened been exactly what I’d wanted? What had he said, last night? That it’d been agony knowing I was on the other side of the door. Had he sought the comfort of his hand, the way I had?
We’re adults. Two consenting adults, we took what we wanted and needed, when we wanted, when we needed. But, somehow, the argument doesn’t wash. I feel like I’ve taken advantage, somehow, that despite what we agreed, the power to throw aside the unwritten contract always lay with me. Yet, Freddie’s no pushover. If he hadn’t wanted last night to happen, he’d have said no and meant it.
It all goes around and around in my head, getting me nowhere.
Everything’s so quiet, and I guess my fellow guests are all sleeping in late. The door to the en-suite’s closed, and that’s when I notice the soft thrum of the shower. He’ll be out soon, and then we need to talk. I turn to go, to wait for him in the lounge, when I spot something on the floor and cringe.
The condom, lying flat and wrinkled like a discarded sausage skin, by the side of the bed. How the hell hadn’t I seen it when I’d crept, before the sun had barely risen, to shower quickly, before camping out on the sofa, not brave enough to slip back in bed with Freddie and pull him in close? I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stem the nascent headache. Christ, I can’t let him find it when he comes back into the bedroom. I dart in and grab it up, wrinkling my nose. It’s cold and slippery between my thumb and forefinger, heavy and dangling like some kind of obscene pendulum.
I need to get rid of it, but I don’t want to risk opening the bedroom door, because it squeaks, so I head out the way I’ve come in, stepping into the bright glare of another hot day, ready to re-enter the cottage through the lounge. I don’t get more than a couple of steps when my name’s called out.
“Elliot?”
Gavin, on the footpath leading up from the beach. His hair’s wet and sticking to his head, droplets of sea water cling to his skin. There’s no way I want him to see what’s in my hand, and I try to flick it into a terracotta pot filled with bright flowers, just for now, before I can get rid of it properly, but it sticks to my fingers like a giant gob of chewing gum.
Gavin stares at the condom, his lips pursed in distaste.
“I assume you’re going to dispose of that in an environmentally friendly manner?”
“I was just about to take it down to the beach and chuck it out to sea.”
“Very droll. Well, I’m happy to see you’re taking precautions, because you never can tell, can you?”
I suck in a deep breath, counting the numbers in my head the way I’ve done so many times with Gavin, levelling my anger, frustration, and sometimes tears.
“I don’t like your insinuation, but you’re right about precautions. Protecting one’s partner and showing them respect is an important part of any relationship. It’s just a shame you never did that.”
Colour, high and blotchy, rises up in his cheeks.
“I made mistakes. I realise that, but I’ve learnt from them. The hard way.” He casts a quick glance at the cottage, then back at me, and takes a couple of steps as he lowers his voice. “I understand you want to get back at me. To teach me a lesson. To show me that another man—”
“You think this is about getting back at you? I—”
“Ells, there you are. Whoops.”
Freddie, clad in nothing more than a towel hanging low on his hips, flings the flimsy curtain open and steps out onto the verandah, swiping the condom from my fingers. He smiles at me, all coy, from beneath his lashes, before he slides his gaze over to Gavin.
“Sorry about that, Gav. Should’ve disposed of the evidence last night, but we were so tired. Exhausted, in fact.” He smirks, as he holds the condom in one hand, sweeping the fingers of the other through his wet hair, the movement causing the towel draped around his waist to shift, revealing a glimpse of golden fuzz. My throat thickens, along with my dick.
Christ, but he’s gorgeous. Young and full of vitality, the sun shining on his lightly tanned skin and cloaking him in a golden glow. I cast a glance at Gavin. The tick in his jaw’s working overtime, the only indication of what he’s feeling beneath his bland expression.
“Come on, babe, I’ve got something hot and steamy for you. A nice cup of tea,” Freddie says, laughing, as he takes my hand and leads me inside, swinging around and dismissing Gavin as though he’s not worth the effort of a goodbye.
And he’s not.
* * *
“Tea?” I ask, when Freddie appears in the kitchen area, dressed in loose shorts and an old T-shirt with the faded name of a band I’ve never heard of emblazoned across the front.
